Daily Entries for the week of
Sunday, March 15
through
Saturday, March 21
It’s Saturday, March 21
Welcome to the 715th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
The Royal Canadian Air Force Exercise Plans are two exercise plans developed for the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) by Dr. Bill Orban in the late 1950s, first published in 1961.
5BX and XBX booklets on display at the infirmary in the Diefenbunker museum, June 2018.
Jmhartman - Own work
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2.0 Commentary
Daughter Kat encouraged me to find an alternative way to stay toned.
Not an easy goal: I’m a creature of habit.
Exercising so personal.
Took me a full year to develop a lifting rhythm that did the job and
was within my time and convenience constraints.
I thought on Kat’s suggestion and came up with nothing.
Then slept on it and
woke up in the morning with the solution:
The Royal Canadian Air Force exercises.
These are baseline exercises I did forty years ago, before I started working out at the club.
I made them part of my sons’ routines when they were early teenagers.
They develop flexibility, muscle strength, and aerobic capacity in the quiet of your home, without any equipment, and in only eleven minutes.
At that time I downloaded the pamphlet that the RCAF created and printed and,
even though from twenty years ago,
I never threw it out.
So I retrieved it.
Intact.
I also bought it on my kindle.
One of the attractive aspects of the program is that
the beginners’ level is designed to include the most physically decrepit among us.
It’s encouraging to be able to accomplish the first step without any prior training.
Whenever you feel like it you move yourself to the next level,
an onion skin more difficult than yesterday’s.
BYW: Although the exercises start at a most rudimentary level,
they end by including the eleven-minute routine Olympic athletes are required to do.
We will start at the abject beginner’s level and
will progress.
As Martika sings it:
Step by step
Heart to heart
Left, right, left
We all fall down
Like toy soldiers
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
The future ain't what it used to be.
~Yogi Berra
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
We had sandwiches from Sam LaGrassa’s on Province Street in Boston.
A pastrami and a tuna.
They were delicious.
For tonight, I bought some cod and will bake it in a Lobster Sauce with Pork Sauce from Billy Tse’s.
A snap.
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11.0 Thumbnails
The Royal Canadian Air Force Exercise Plans are two exercise plans developed for the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) by Dr. Bill Orban in the late 1950s, first published in 1961.
The 5BX plan (Five Basic Exercises) was developed for men; a corresponding program was developed for women under the name XBX (Ten Basic Exercises) and the two plans were subsequently published together as one book.
The popularity of the programs in many countries around the world helped to launch modern fitness culture.
Wing Commander John Tett was appointed Special Education Officer in the RCAF in 1952. His mandate was to establish a directorate and trade for the development of physical fitness, sports and recreation.
In 1956 he hired Bill Orban and directed him to devise a program which emphasized the development of a high level of fitness, but would consume only a relatively small amount of the RCAF personnel's time.
The program was intended for RCAF pilots, a third of whom were not considered fit to fly at the time.
While performing research at the University of Illinois in the early 1950s, Orban had noticed, when testing oxygen intake, that long periods of exercise did not necessarily lead to significant improvement.
This led him to the conclusion that the intensity of exercise was more important to improving fitness than the amount of time spent on it. He incorporated this conclusion into his proposed exercise plan for the RCAF.
This concept drew a negative reaction from others in the field at the time but it proved its worth in the three years of testing that the RCAF performed before releasing the program in 1961.
Based on this research and testing, Orban came up with five basic exercises (5BX), four to improve flexibility and strength and one to boost aerobic fitness.
The plan was innovative in two respects.
Firstly, it did not require access to specialized equipment.
Many RCAF pilots were located in remote bases in northern Canada, with no access to gymnasium facilities, so it was important to offer a means of keeping fit without their use.
Secondly, the plan only required that eleven minutes be spent on the exercises per day. After further research and testing involving over 600 volunteers, he produced a program with ten basic exercises (XBX) for women that required twelve minutes to complete.
The programs proved popular with civilians.
A U.S. edition was published in 1962 under the title Royal Canadian Air Force Exercise Plans For Physical Fitness.
The publication became popular around the world and was translated into thirteen languages.
In total, twenty-three million copies of the booklets were sold to the public.
Present-day practitioners include Helen Mirren and the British princes Philip, Charles, William and his wife Kate. The book was republished in 2016.
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It’s Friday, March 20
Welcome to the 714th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Coronavirus: T Station at Midday in Boston
An illustration of the effect of Boston’s gentle quarantine
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2.0 Commentary
Yesterday, my oldest and very dear son, my namesake,
reamed me out.
Feels that in my writings, I’ve been too cavalier re: our social quarantine.
I applaud the efforts of all elements of our society to control the Coronavirus.
Despite what I write, I hardly bury myself in crowds.
Leaving my apartment on the 31st floor, I am not permitted to step into an elevator that already is occupied by only a single person.
I take the T mid-mornings and am virtually alone in the car.
At the Prudential Center, most of the stores are closed and I walk virtually alone through the mall.
Can’t sit: the cafes are closed; so is the Public Library.
So, social intercourse, not happening even if I may appear to be cavalier about my excursions.
Sorry if I gave the wrong impression.
How wonderful that at this moment of intense isolation, Grace comes into my life.
It has been far too long since I’ve had a sweetheart.
Enter Grace.
Oh yes.
Yesterday I reported kicking the bs out of my scale.
Which reported I had gained 2 pounds.
It appears I taught the scale a lesson.
It is back on track without breaking stride.
Yesterday’s aberration never happened.
I’ve now lost 6 pounds in 9 days.
Going for 4 more.
Ordinarily fasting would be easy to take.
The Coronavirus, keeping us indoors, changes that.
Confined to apartment, the days get much longer.
The temptation to eat to dispel the boredom gets much greater.
I must stay the course.
The iron control of body mass that fasting provides is unprecedented in
my forty year history of incessant dieting.
People who know me well say that it only works because I have self-control.
And that’s true.
I suffer pain to an extent that medical people tell me I throw their diagnoses off.
I do without, suffer loss, and experience little wistfulness.
But, in fasting, I have discovered something excellent and
want to share it.
Want to shout out, “Anybody can do this!”
Perhaps not so.
But if it is not for everybody, not for
every living, breathing soul,
I’ll bet it is accessible to a great number who
Only intellectually resist the idea of fasting.
“Oh, I can’t do that.”
Yes, you may be able to.
Or some variant.
For instance, reduce your lunch somewhat and
totally fast from that lunch until dinner.
That means skipping a mid-afternoon snack, happy hour tidbits, etc.
See what that does.
I’m positive it will have a positive effect.
If you struggle with finding an effective way to control your weight,
Come on!
Just do it.
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
In theory there is no difference between theory and practice.
In practice there is.
~Yogi Berra
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This amusing note and resultant poem from Colleen G, mother of four and poet
[Yan is the subject of a poem published within this post yesterday or the day before.
easy to track.]
Thanks Dom!
Needless to say I am playing the part of Laura Ingalls Wilder in my K through 6th one room (ok, house:) school house suddenly. As with everybody, suddenly there is a lot to adjust to mentally, physically, and all the other 'lys. Cancelling everything sounded so much more relaxing than it is in real life--with so many shows that must still go on but now virtually and with more logistically kung fu. Other things so detailed and like a house of cards, it must be taken apart and reassembled somewhere else at a later date, one card at a time. Oh--and this is all done while keeping kids up with their various lessons, through various formats, yadda yadda yadda. So, I'm a little overwhelmed--as we all are in our various capacities--and not having time to read your blog due to this sudden bog, I took time just now to sift through some of it and catch up. I thank you for two gift you offered up for me:
A portrait I can keep in the back pocket of my jeans like an idol reminding me to be grateful (Yan)
Poetry--your poem of Yan made me think that while I haven't had time to write or be creative or take very many moments for myself, a poem can almost always be fit into daily living. As my kids stare at me and walk past me reminding me they are hungry as soup is nearly ready to be spooned out to them, I try to ignore them as I write and revise this quick poem because so many of us are hungry in other ways. I, personally, have been so hungry for a moment to myself, the luxury of soaking in words, contemplation, and all the like. So, thanks--your poem forced a poem out of me and for a moment I was completely alone--which seems a strange longing as of late, but for some of us, contemplation is a luxury we are grateful for.
Good luck with the new normal! I have included the rough poem below.
With much gratitude,
Colleen
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New Normal, for Now
Colleen Getty
How to relate—
without comparing.
How to complain—without complaint.
Gratitude. A noble focus. A necessity.
“The good ole days” seemed something none of us ever lived,
but now, those “days” just last week, just two days gone—five hours prior.
Closed. Shut. Cerrado.
Alone we—
echo.
Early motherhood, romantic as a memory
now thrust back upon me. 24/7—but,
no playgroups, no museums, no libraries, no grandparent visits, no, no, no—no nada.
No time and yet lots.
Water, water everywhere—you know the rest.
Gratitude. A noble idea. A legend, perhaps.
Homeless, lifeless, desperate—
a useful comparison.
Yan, a gift held now. A reminder.
Can I complain?
I shouldn’t—but it’s human. We still human, even if only virtually so.
Virtuous? A goal.
Virtual. A reality. Visits sans hugs, sans human.
Gratitude. Keep it close. Focus and refocus on it.
A home. A family.
Not completely isolated and yet—
a few hours
alone
sounds
delicious.
Blog Meister responds:
Using my piece like that thrills me.
Thank you for extending its life.
Especially as found your responses brilliant.
You capture yourself so well, flying around, tending to tasks interwoven with one another, finishing one of them to find it replaced by six others.
And then finding a moment to think.
I love the discipline: start and complete your poem within 45 seconds: ready…star…”Mommy!”
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Today is the first ‘order out’ day.
Decided to go with Sam LaGrassa’s,
the highly-rated sandwich shop I’ve never been to.
Ordered a pastrami and tuna.
For 1.30pm pick up
Eat at dinner time.
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14.0 “I Remember Mama”
This article by Abettina Dell‘orfano
who is either 94 or 96 years old.
We enjoy any remembrances of Americana
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It’s Thursday, March 19
Welcome to the 713th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Yankees players (L-R:) Yogi Berra, Hank Bauer, Mickey Mantle in 1953.
Bowman Gum - http://www.vintagecardtraders.org/virtual/53bowman_color/53bowman_color.html
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2.0 Commentary
A blip in my much-vaunted ‘fasting’ diet.
For no reason apparent to me, the scale just put two pounds back.
I stepped on and off the scale six times.
Jiggled it.
Kicked it once with the side of my shoe.
Obstinate: two pound gain.
My scale is full of it.
My scale is out to get me.
My scale communicates with the Commentary section of the blog and being the contrarian that it is, randomly added two pounds to my weight.
Without realizing that I’m on to it.
I’m going to teach it a lesson.
Change the battery.
A lovely day this.
Am meeting my sweetheart to take a walking tour of the North End.
Perfect day for it.
Ten o’clock, a.m.
Walked over to Whole Foods.
Very few shoppers.
Food in the cases.
Not all of them.
Got everything I wanted.
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
Keep trying.
Stay humble, Trust your instincts.
Most importantly, act.
When you come to a fork in the road, take it.
~Yogi Berra
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Marc O:
Hi Dom,
I love the piece you wrote about Yan.
More than a character sketch, it was a study.
And moving.
Well done!
M.
Blog Meister responds: Thank you, my friend.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
So with restaurants closed for sit down, I will start looking for food-to-go.
Today, I’ll call Fins (a sushi restaurant with an amazingly reasonable lunch) and Billy Tse’s, nearby my apartment, occupying the space Dom’s once had, for Lobster Sauce, (I’ll buy the fish or clams for it from a market,) call them to see if they are open for takeout.
I’m sure the Boston Public Market is open for takeout.
The first attraction there is a delicious and pricey pastrami sandwich which I’ll eat as my main course.
Never crazy for the taste of Whole Foods prepared foods, and now they limited: considered and dismissed.
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11.0 Thumbnails
Lawrence Peter "Yogi" Berra (May 12, 1925 – September 22, 2015) was an American professional baseball catcher, who later took on the roles of manager and coach.
He played 19 seasons in Major League Baseball (MLB) (1946–1963, 1965), all but the last for the New York Yankees.
He was an 18-time All-Star and won 10 World Series championships as a player—more than any other player in MLB history.
Berra had a career batting average of .285, while hitting 358 home runs and 1,430 runs batted in.
He is one of only six players to win the American League Most Valuable Player Award three times.
He is widely regarded as one of the greatest catchers in baseball history, and was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1972.
Despite his short stature (he was 5 feet 7 inches tall), Berra was a power hitter and strong defensive catcher.
Berra played 18 seasons with the Yankees before retiring after the 1963 season.
He spent the next year as their manager, then joined the New York Mets in 1965 as coach (and briefly a player again).
Berra remained with the Mets for the next decade, serving the last four years as their manager.
He returned to the Yankees in 1976, coaching them for eight seasons and managing for two, before coaching the Houston Astros.
He was one of seven managers to lead both American and National League teams to the World Series.
Berra appeared as a player, coach or manager in every one of the 13 World Series that New York baseball teams won from 1947 through 1981.
Overall, he appeared in 22 World Series, 13 on the winning side. Berra caught Don Larsen's perfect game in Game 5 of the 1956 World Series. He also holds the all-time record for shutouts caught, with 173.
Berra quit school after the eighth grade.
He was known for his malapropisms as well as pithy and paradoxical statements, such as "It ain't over 'til it's over", while speaking to reporters.
He once simultaneously denied and confirmed his reputation by stating, "I really didn't say everything I said.
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t’s Wednesday, March 18
Welcome to the 712th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
This is our farewell picture from the Prudential Blue Bottle Crew.
Photo by Joanna Ennenbach
It’s pretty amazing how quickly we can develop a real fondness for each other.
Which is what I feel for this crew and
I believe it is reciprocal.
God bless you my friends.
May we meet again when we’ve corralled COVID 19
I love you
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2.0 Commentary
On Tuesday, I followed my regular routine.
I left my apartment and headed for Prudential.
The T on a weekend schedule, getting there took a bit longer than usual.
Arriving, taking the escalator up, I pass Yan.
I said ‘Hello.’
Full-smiling, she fully bowed from the waist and moved on.
I stopped at the Starbuck’s next to Barnes and Noble.
Someone was wiping down the counter.
There were no other customers.
I ordered a cappuccino and waited for them to make it.
As I left, another customer walked in.
Business down, I noted.
The coffee was poor but I sipped at it for the entirety of my visit.
Why was I there anyway?
While trying to reconstruct my daily routine, I thought a trip into nostalgia an excellent beginning.
Slow walked past the Blue Bottle, dark now.
Then to the brightly lit but also closed Microsoft store.
By lucky coincidence, I bumped into Lejaea, the newly-installed store manager.
We chatted for a couple of moments, she readying to make the final tweaks to the store before leaving it to its fate.
I walked into and through Saks on my way to Star Market, across a small street from Saks.
I bought wraps and citrus fruit. At 11.00am the shelves were all fully stocked, and this is a big Star market.
I returned through the Prudential and caught a T home.
I enjoyed reading while waiting from my trains.
I enjoyed walking through the mall as a social event, sipping my coffee.
I enjoyed sitting and reading my book while I sipped.
I enjoyed having two markets to shop at for items I may have missed in my big shop moments.
So despite not having the terrific Blue Bottle coffee or working at one the café tables, and despite not having Microsoft at my elbow for technical support, it’s likely something I may do again.
(Not tomorrow: other plans supersede.)
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
I have often regretted my speech, never my silence.
~Xenocrates
Greek philosopher, mathematician, and leader (scholarch) of the Platonic Academy from 339/8 to 314/3 BC.
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Ann H:
Oh I know Yan.- not personally. She is usually sleeping in front of the Sephora Store.
SO sad but she seems pleasant.
Ann Heimlicher
Boston Spot-Lite, Inc.
"The Concierge Specialists"
50 Commonwealth Avenue #501
Boston, MA 02116
617-247-0001
visit our website at www.bostonspotlite.com
Blog Meister responds: Yes. Sad.
And this from Joanna E:
That is a wonderful poem Dom. You captured Yan’s daily routine at the Pru beautifully.
She is shy, she is considerate, she is human.
It brings me great sadness to know that her routine has been disrupted and she is forced to walk while sleeping.
Thank you for reflecting her humanity with your words.
Love,
Joanna
And another from Joanna,
Bless Yan, I hope the kind people support her during what is sure to be a difficult change in her routine.
Blog Meister responds: Thank you for your kind words, knowing that you were among the first at Prudential who treated her as a person.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Kat and I ate our last restaurant meal before the regional closure took effect: Limoncello in the North End.
It was terrific.
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It’s Tuesday, March 17
Welcome to the 711th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
As the viral curtain descends, each of us is impacted.
After more than 500 consecutive days of writing my blog here, with the Microsoft store just across the lobby, Blue Bottle is closing temporarily, throwing my life into turmoil.
See 2.0 Commentary below if you feel injured by the war against corona.
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2.0 Commentary
Yan walks past me,
Looking asleep on her moving feet.
Ten minutes later walks past me again.
An older woman,
Whose lower jaw and teeth dramatically forward of her upper,
With legs misshapen and repulsively sored,
Of very few words, they guttural and barely intelligible,
Who has worn the same burlap-looking outfit that matches the burlap bag hanging round her neck,
Which bag one feels contains her life’s possessions,
since I’ve become aware of her.
Yan,
Obviously homeless,
Uncared for,
Shunned because
Uncared for,
Adrift in the Prudential Mall, passes me once,
In ten minutes, a second time.
It’s Monday and the Blue Bottle café is closed for the first time
Since its opening on July 11, 2018,
Since the time I made it my workplace, seven days a week.
Sometime between then and now,
Closer to then,
Yan approached the cashier.
She drew attention: few homeless-types wander such a space: being as it is,
Dedicated to the pleasures of the well-to-do.
She ordered a drink and a yogurt cup.
She paid and she left a tip.
She waited for her order and carried it to the Blue Bottle communal table,
Shyly taking the chair most isolated from the other patrons
Who did little to mask their distaste.
She slowly ate and drank.
Did not dribble.
Did not slurp or spill.
She wiped her lips
And remained sitting.
Just sitting quietly.
Her head drooping.
Nodding.
Dozing.
Jerking awake.
To the disgust of the others.
Blue Bottle management was contacted.
Little they could do:
She a paying customer.
“Hello,” they could say, and
Did.
To wake her.
To tell her,
“You cannot sleep here.”
She smiled that distorted smile,
Although not without its charm –
The innocence of a child,
Willing to please,
Wanting to please,
Wishing to please. But
Needing to sleep.
Security was called.
But she not disturbing the peace.
A paying customer.
Warnings issued.
Eventually Yan got to know the names of a couple of us other daily customers and
Told us her name in return.
She smiling.
Happy to be acknowledged.
Eventually Yan got up the courage to move a chair to a space convenient to her:
A bit distant from the communal table.
A place where she was close enough to claim ownership of the two purchased cups but
Far enough away from the communal table so as not to
Discourage others from sitting.
And so matters rested for several months:
Yan asleep in a chair warmed by the sun,
Not bothering anyone,
Her body healing itself, perhaps,
With a most-needed sleep,
Management, security, and random patrons accepting her presence.
Bliss.
For the down-trodden, too good never lasts.
Today the Blue Bottle Café in the Prudential Center closed for several weeks to come.
And Yan walks past me.
Squatters’ right taken from her.
No replacement chair in the entire mall:
All restaurants closing.
The mall’s own common seating off-limits:
Any homeless caught sitting, evicted.
Yan.
Adrift.
Passes, not noticing my wave.
Asleep, perhaps.
On moving feet.
Disappears down one of the mall’s walkways.
After twenty minutes, walks past again.
Still asleep.
On moving feet.
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
Diplomacy is the art of telling people to go to hell in such a way that they ask for directions.
~Winston Churchill
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
Kali L asked how I was doing.
And I asked her back.
And she writes this:
Hi Dom,
My dog passed away so that was a shock and quite jarring to my own systems.
I'm trying to remain positive but he was my life for 10 years coming everywhere with me and to work.
So I just keeping telling myself:
Drink water
Take your supplements
Drink more water
Focus on the simple tasks at hand
Focus on gratitude
My plans are still fine and I am grateful for that and even if they don't materialize all will be well.
Enjoy your time and learning with Kat- you both have a lot to share
Sending love
Blog Meister responds: I love Kali’s matter of fact, stoical even, approach to life.
And Sally C writes this:
Dear Dom,
Thanks for these “before and after” photos. I knew, going to markets on Friday evening, that my regular shopping would be frustrated by the media- and self-induced hysteria of the masses, but I poked around and found enough things to accommodate reasonable substitutes for what and how we like to eat. Of course, we had goodly stocks in the basement at home. Surveying the empty bread, milk, and egg cases did not discourage me – I figured that once the panicked rush was over, the stores would receive their usual shipments of goods from manufacturers and vendors, and in a day or two I’d be able to find those things I was missing on Friday night. The producers of goods didn’t fall off the face of the earth, after all, and neither did the dairy cows, hens, and granaries.
Sure enough, yesterday (Saturday), while out running other kinds of errands, Phillip and I stopped in at our local Market Basket, and the night-before’s naked shelves were bursting with products.
I am envious to a degree of my friend Charlie in York, Maine, who reported on Thursday that his seven hens (whom he refers to fondly as “The Girls”) produced their first five-egg day of the year. I’ve seen those eggs in the dishes Charlie and his wife concoct, and they look scrumptious. Charlie says they are, indeed. Nothing like eggs from free-range chickens!
Happy shopping and eating!
Sally
Blog Meister responds: Tell your friend to keep those eggs coming.
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It’s Monday, March 16
Welcome to the 710th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
At 10.00am on Sunday the shelves at Roche Bros are filled.
Richard Case, meat manager
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2.0 Commentary
On Tuesday, March 10th, I started my newest effort to curtail a weight gain spiraling out of control.
Ten pounds over my preferred weight and the needle still moving.
It is today, March 16, the first full week into my diet-by-fast, and I am reporting that I’ve lost five of those unwanted pounds.
The last time I lost five pounds took me months of a diet that was stressful and full of setbacks.
I am totally in rhythm with my fasting: an egg, half a muffin, and coffee in the morning.
A single cookie at noon.
Dinner in late afternoon or early evening.
Done eating for the day.
So what does the immediate future hold?
I haven’t been this close to my desired weight in eighteen months.
I’ve forgotten how impactful those last five pounds were, all of them adhering to my waist.
Encouraged by the results, no, ecstatic, I am absolutely determined to stay the course.
Expecting, however, that my rate of loss will slow, hoping to shed 2.5 pounds in the coming week.
Here’s a thought for everyone.
How about using a day or two of fasting to help with a reconstruction of our diets.
During the fast, make a plan of how you would like to eat.
The plan to include personal idiosyncrasies.
When the fasting is over, implement your revised plan.
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
A feminist is any woman who tells the truth about her life.
~Virginia Woolf
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
Richard Case is the meat manager at Roche Bros Downtown.
He has special ordered many meat products for me in the past, distant and recent.
He saw yesterday’s photo of empty shelves at Whole Foods and responded:
We have product!!!
If you want to come take a new photo for the blog
😊.
Hope all is well!
Rich Case
Meat Manager
Roche Bros.
Downtown Crossing - 121
617-456-5111
rcase@rochebros.com
Blog Meister responds: So I did. Starting at 7.45am, calling up, ordering their second to last chicken, asking them to cut it into 18 pieces for me.
At 10.00am I went into the store to shop pick up the chicken, and to order a half-turkey (for which they tried all of their other stores, not available, but perhaps on Thursday) and to shop for vegetables for wraps and Chicken Cacciatore, my next cook.
See 1.0 Lead Picture and 2.0 Commentary above for the results of my visit.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
My dear friend, Ann H, my new dear, Grace, and I went to Elephant Walk last night.
They had their restaurant week menu available and it was a terrific value.
The prices favor the consumer even without the special menu.
All of our selections were excellent.
The drinks were robust and well-presented.
And the service couldn’t have been better.
Well done, my friends.
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It’s Sunday,
Welcome to the 709th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Empty shelves at Whole Foods
Never saw this at Whole Foods
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2.0 Commentary
Corona-virus at home.
The Blue Bottle.
Business seems to be down AT LEAST 50%.
And as of today, coffees and drinks in paper cups instead of
the more elegant china.
Do you have people whom you see regularly annually?
Like Catholics who go to regularly on Christmas Day and
That’s it?
When you’re of a certain age, those get togethers have added up.
My boyhood friend Tony Cintolo and I get together twice a year, most recently,
Just two weeks ago when he took me shopping after dinner.
Tonight, my friend Ann Heimlicher and I are going to Elephant Walk for dinner,
She an annual.
Our precipitating event?
The proximity of our birthdays.
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
Long ago when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft.
Today it's called golf.
~Will Rogers
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Chris Capossela, Executive Vice-President for Marketing, Microsoft
Here are some links to some of the things we are doing:
https://www.yahoo.com/now/microsoft-pay-hourly-workers-regular-044533374.html
Blog Meister (Chris’ father) responds: Thank you my dear.
This from Sally C”
Dear Dom,
It is heart-warming to see large corporations, like Microsoft, expressing in real terms concern for their communities. I just read a post shared by my college that U-Haul is offering free storage to displaced college students. This has to be a big boon to the students, many of whom are strapped for resources right now.
Things like this are important to those of us inclined to fall for class envy (bred by noisy people who try to control our thoughts and emotions) and accuse all large corporations as interested only in capitalism, greed, and the bottom line. Not all are such, and not all are such all the time.
Sally
Blog Meister responds: Amen.
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7. “Conflicted” podcast
Conflicted, by Dom Capossela, is a spiritual/fantasy/political story about a sixteen-year-old mystic-warrior conflicted internally by her self-imposed alienation from God, her spiritual wellspring, and, externally, by the forces of darkness seeking her death or ruination.
Today we post Chapter 22 in which Dee presents to the world her personal take on Christian mysticism.
The podcasts are also available on Sound Cloud, iTunes, Twitter, and Facebook.
Search: dom capossela or conflicted or both
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10.0 Movie Reviews
The 21st century’s first film adaptation of Little Women opens with Jo March (Saoirse Ronan) standing in front of a frosted glass door, a portal from the cozy domestic sphere with which women like her are supposed to be content into the colder but more thrilling world of men. She opens the door and strides purposefully across the smoky room of a publishing house, the camera following her past dark wooden desks occupied by men in black suits who think they know what girls want to read. Jo plops herself down in front of one of these men, Mr. Dashwood (Tracy Letts), her knees bouncing, and her fingertips stained with ink. The story her “friend” has submitted for publication will do just fine, Mr. Dashwood tells her, but she should remember that “If the main character’s a girl, make sure she’s married by the end.”
Louisa May Alcott’s classic coming-of-age novel sticks to this directive, but not without its own spirited jabs at the Victorian ideal of “the angel in the house.” Writer-director Greta Gerwig’s version of Little Women remixes the story in order to highlight Alcott’s genteel howls of protest, like an actor changing the meaning of a line by putting emphasis on a different word. She does this primarily by liberating Little Women from the restraints of chronology, weaving together the lives of the March sisters from early adolescence to young womanhood on a timeline that hopscotches among characters and decades with remarkable ease. This is accomplished through not only strong work from editor Nick Houy, but also an eye for visual patterns and character-based detail that underlines Gerwig’s empathy and affection for these four butterflies flapping against the glass of 19th-century paternalism.
The primary mood of the first half of Little Women is cheerful chaos, the camera scrambling to keep up in tracking shots following Jo and her sisters, Meg (Emma Watson), Amy (Florence Pugh), and Beth (Eliza Scanlen), through their shabby but comfortable Massachusetts home, happy chatter ringing off of the walls. The Marches are not as rich as the Laurences next door, whose bachelor household frequently turns to the March girls for emotional support. But they’re also not as poor as the Hummels down the lane, with whom their saintly mother, Marmee (Laura Dern), insists the girls share their Christmas breakfast.
The sisters’ father, Mr. March (Bob Odenkirk), is away volunteering in the Civil War, turning the March household into a matriarchal incubator for ambition and imagination insulated from the expectations of the outside world. That is, except those of their wealthy, finger-wagging Aunt March (Meryl Streep), who insists that at least one of the March sisters marry a rich man in order to ensure the family’s financial future. Gerwig and cinematographer Yorick Le Saux reflect this loving atmosphere with the warm glow of candles and golden sunlight that stays consistent throughout the seasons. One day, this light will grow cold and gray as Jo and her sisters’ dreams collide with reality, but not today.
Jo views marriage as a death sentence, but eldest sister Meg is obsessed with romance and propriety, which she sees as one and the same. Over the years, the character of Meg has been received and portrayed as an uptight scold, but Gerwig likes her too much to share that interpretation. Here, Meg is both a starry-eyed dreamer and a compassionate realist who wants what’s best for those she loves. Likewise, youngest sister Amy has sometimes been played as a brat in previous adaptations. True, she can be jealous and vindictive, but Gerwig understands that her tantrums are driven by a premature cynicism. Even sweet, gentle, doomed Beth is more than a peaked symbol of feminine self-sacrifice in this Little Women, finding moments of near-spiritual satisfaction playing piano in the parlor of the Laurence’s luxurious, lifeless house. And although Little Women sometimes shares Jo’s doubts, it never loses faith in its fiery protagonist and her decisions.
Casting Timothée Chalamet as the boy next door Laurie was a savvy move, and not just because he and Ronan have a pre-existing rapport from their work on Gerwig’s Lady Bird. With his floppy hair and soulful eyes, Chalamet is also the ideal canvas onto which the March girls—and, by extension, the audience—can sketch all manner of anxieties and desires. Little Women doesn’t prioritize romantic love over other kinds of intimacy and affection, but neither does it dismiss the need for such love as incompatible with being an independent woman. In fact, for the stubborn Jo, admitting that she’s lonely is a bigger challenge than leaving home to pursue her writing career. As with all the film’s emotional beats, the romantic tension between the characters develops organically, with just a little boost from Alexandre Desplat’s stirring, nostalgic score. Compared to the slow crescendo of the love stories, the film’s brush with death sometimes feels empty and sudden, but loss can feel that way in real life, too.
Gerwig’s overarching project with Little Women is building a fantasy space where girls can explore their identities in a safe, encouraging environment, whether it’s true love or artistic glory they long for. All too often, the lessons of womanhood—its disappointments, its inequities, its cruelties—are learned too soon or far too quickly, and the sacrifices made along the way are too great to bear. In one of the film’s more pointed feminist subtexts, Gerwig hints at a contrast between the idyllic ending of Jo’s story and the reality of Alcott’s life as a woman creator in 19th-century America. A title card at the beginning of the film quotes the author: “I’ve had lots of troubles, so I write jolly tales.”
Little Women is the best kind of Hollywood film: thoughtful yet escapist, sophisticated yet accessible, expertly crafted and deeply felt. The performances are all top notch—Ronan and Pugh, especially, breathe new life into their characters. Gerwig’s direction is also first rate, using symbolism and composition to reinforce the emotional arcs of the material. The film tweaks the structure of a well-known and beloved story and modernizes it with light meta touches, all while staying true to its old-fashioned belief in the virtues of kindness and selflessness. It’s a living, breathing, vibrant work of art, one that’s as bittersweet as life itself.
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11.0 Thumbnails
Typically profuse, supermarket shelves have been cursed with their own version of the corona virus, leaving them
anemic.
The markets have got to be loving the surge in sales and profits.
The best thing they can do for the country is to avoid the temptation to increase prices.
Cynical, anti-social, and unpatriotic are three adjectives I might use to describe any unwarranted price rise.
The opportunity to use the surge in profits to increase all wages to a $15.00/hour minimum would be charitable, socially-responsible, and all- American.